


Agastopia

by stratumgermanitivum, whiskeyandspite



Series: Prompt Stories [8]
Category: Confessions of a Shopaholic (2009), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Commands, Dirty Talk, Flirting, Fluff, Gifts, Lingerie, M/M, Oral, Orgasm Delay, Rimming, Rough Sex, Rutting, Semi-Public Sex, Sugar Daddy, Teasing, Wall Sex, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:35:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22578700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratumgermanitivum/pseuds/stratumgermanitivum, https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandspite/pseuds/whiskeyandspite
Summary: “There’s no shame in wanting to wear comfortable things.”“Just because I’m bisexual doesn’t mean I’m a walking stereotype.”“And yet,” Rebecca grinned knowingly, “you’ll still think about it, won’t you?”Luke makes a fool of himself in front of a handsome stranger, and gets a gift and dinner out of it.
Relationships: Luke Brandon/Le Chiffre
Series: Prompt Stories [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1575220
Comments: 49
Kudos: 352
Collections: Hannigram Kinkmeme





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ishxallxgood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishxallxgood/gifts).



> A gorgeous little prompt from Ish, who asked for a meet cute where Character A points out some lingerie in a window to a friend only to find that their friend isn't there, but Character B is, who offers to buy that lingerie for them.

Rebecca - having overcome her rather impressive shopping addiction - supplemented her desire for clothes by window shopping. Luke had never understood the appeal of either, but following along behind her as Rebecca bounced down the street in her Gucci boots brought Luke the same joy as people claimed to get from watching children play in daycare.

“No, no, color  _ changes _ , Luke, depending on what material it’s on. A teal silk-blend skirt is going to be a vastly different color to a teal cashmere coat.”

“They make those in teal?”

Rebecca shoved him before moving on to the next shop, fingers spreading wide in her gloves as she bounced on her toes in excitement. “Look at the  _ lace _ detailing!”

“You know, lace used to be woven by hand,” Luke pointed out, sidling up beside her as Rebecca ogled the lingerie display and squealed in delight. “I’m sure the masters of bobbin lace in Genoa would be  _ thrilled _ to know that their pioneering breakthrough into fashion is now worn as underpants.”

“You’re being pedantic,” Rebecca pointed out haughtily, but they were both smiling. “It’s the aesthetics of the thing. Can’t you see how lovely it looks?”

“On a mannequin? Everything looks nice on a mannequin.”

“You’ve seen it on me,” Rebecca pointed out, brows up, and Luke had to laugh.

“Well that, that is true, yes.”

“And you liked it then. You’re allowed to like how things look without immediately bringing up the history about it you know.”

Luke made a sound of disbelief. His friend just leaned her shoulder against him and tugged his sleeve.

“Just try it. Think about how one of these would look on someone you like.”

“What, like on me?”

“There’s no shame in wanting to wear comfortable things.”

“Just because I’m bisexual doesn’t mean I’m a walking stereotype.”

“And yet,” Rebecca grinned knowingly, “you’ll still think about it, won’t you?”

Luke gave the lingerie another once over. It certainly wasn’t  _ terrible.  _ The red was gaudy and wouldn’t suit his coloring anyway, but the  _ black _ …

“Alright,” he said with a laugh, indicating the black with one hand while his other snagged Rebecca’s sleeve. “ _ That one _ would look good on me, don’t you think?”

Except Rebecca had, as per her usual, gotten distracted and run off to the next shop. Luke had grabbed the sleeve of a man, tall, impeccably dressed. The scar under his eye only enhanced his sharp features, and the intense look he was giving Luke now. 

“I- I’m sorry,” Luke babbled, “I thought-“ 

The stranger gave him a long, lingering,  _ pointed _ once over, one that made Luke shiver down to his  _ toes.  _

“The black?” The stranger asked. “Certainly. Particularly against white sheets.”

Luke flushed a brilliant red. “I should-“

“I’ll buy it for you.”

“... what?”

The man looked at him, pinned him with just his eyes. Luke swallowed. 

“I’ll buy it for you,” the man repeated, “if you let me see it on you. My hotel room has white sheets.”

Luke stared at him, mouth agape, eyes wide, before remembering his manners and clearing his throat, turning to look at the shop window once more. He could barely see his own reflection in it but he knew his cheeks were on fire both from the scrutiny and the implication. Was it really so obvious that he hadn’t been laid in over a year? Was it floating above his head like a goddamn neon sign proclaiming to everyone and their mother that he was horny and single?

And if he thought about it, what was the problem with saying yes? He was a healthy adult male, with urges, he had time and the stranger was striking. Luke couldn’t remember the last time he’d let himself have fun with something like this. So why not now?

Why not?

“The set,” he replied, turning back to the man beside him. “Panties, garter belt, stockings, the works. And dinner.”

“This evening?”

“My schedule’s free.”

“A welcome coincidence, so is mine.”

Luke chewed his lip, unable to hide his smile. And then he didn’t anymore, he just laughed helplessly and shook his head. The stranger’s eyes narrowed enough to warm his expression and Luke couldn’t help but blush deeper.

“I have a standing reservation at Daniel,” the stranger said. “Eight o’clock.”

“Perfect.” Luke hoped his eyes hadn’t widened too much. Daniel. Shit. “And that?” he gestured to the shop. The stranger tilted his head.

“That, I would prefer you wear to dinner.”

“Then you should buy it.” Luke ventured, made brave by how truly odd this situation was.

“Then you’ll have to escort me in. I’ll need your measurements to find the correct size.”

He held out his arm, as if escorting Luke to dinner and not to a lingerie store. Luke took it with a small smile, the red on his face slowly receding the more confident he grew. 

The woman running the shop seemed ecstatic to measure him, and giggled when the man answered the questions she had directed towards Luke. 

Luke walked out with a delicate bag in his hands and a thrum of arousal in his veins. 

“Eight o’clock,” the man reminded him. He lifted Luke’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the knuckles while his eyes stayed locked on Luke’s face. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

“Do I get a name?” 

Eyes bright, the man smiled. “I’ve already given you so many gifts. Isn’t it time you gave something in return.”

“Luke,” he said with a laugh. 

“Jean.”

Luke watched Jean turn to walk away, let his eyes slip to the shift of his hips as he walked, wondered how intrusive it would be to ask about his eye, and nearly jumped out of his skin when hands landed on his shoulders and Rebecca squeaked against him.

“Who’s that? He’s cute, where can I get one?”

“Embarrassing yourself on the street in front of a lingerie shop, apparently,” Luke replied, rubbing his knuckles against his cheek to try and pat the blush away.

“Is he coming back?”

“No,” Luke replied, decisively. “But we are going to dinner.”

Dinner wasn’t something Luke fretted about often. He’d get takeout and eat it at his desk most nights, or whip up something simple at home if it wasn’t too late when he got there. Once in a while he’d get dressed up for a dinner with clients, or when he was forced to attend a conference. He very rarely went out on a  _ date _ .

And it wasn’t that he didn’t want to, thank you very much. Luke was busy. He had his company to run, he had his side projects, he had… no excuses left, actually. After he and Rebecca had amicably split, he’d just not found a person he deemed worthy of his time to share a bed with. It didn’t  _ bother _ him so much as… well, no, it did bother him. A little. Luke enjoyed being partnered. But Rebecca had told him time and again that he was a terrible investment as a boyfriend because of his workaholism, and sometimes one-night-stands got awkward.

Just the nature of the beast.

As Luke slipped into his new lingerie, looking himself over in the mirror, he wondered if he should even bother combing his hair when it would go wild once he hit the New York streets. Curls were a hassle. Curls were a bloody nightmare.

He dressed in a dark shirt and grey suit and forewent a tie. He wondered if they would actually have dinner, or just meet at the door and immediately find a place to fuck.

At least he had no naive notions of what this  _ actually _ was.

He felt like a bit of an idiot, giving Jean’s name at the door. He didn’t have more to go on than ‘Jean,’ but the man at the podium simply nodded. 

A bit of tightness loosened in his chest. He’d worried for a moment that this had all been a bit of a joke, and even the feel of silk stockings sliding against freshly shaven skin did not ease his worries. It would have been a very expensive joke. 

Jean had changed from a smoky gray suit to a black one, with a thin black tie and his hair slicked back. Luke probably should have combed his hair a second time. 

“Right on cue,” Jean murmured, standing to pull Luke’s chair out for him. Luke tried not to laugh; he’d never had manners quite so practiced used on him. He should start accosting strangers in the street more often. 

Jean sat across from him, ordering a bottle of wine from the waiter who came to check on them. He leaned forward once the waiter was gone, smiling smugly. 

“Are you wearing my gifts?”

Luke swallowed, shifting in his seat. “You told me to.”

“Do you always do as you’re told, Luke?”

“Depends what I’m told and who tells me,” Luke shot back, finding a familiar stride in this kind of flirtation. Quickfire, almost callous, shadowed enough in innuendo to be able to speak freely in a restaurant. Jean’s answering smile was a quick flick of his top lip before he cast his eyes away to the table between them.

Luke snaked out the tip of his tongue to wet his bottom lip and lifted his chin, triumphant. It appeared that Jean had ordered for the two of them, and Luke sat back and let himself take the man in properly, now that they were in close and more comfortable quarters. Cheekbones sharp enough to cut your hand on, eyes - more accurately, eye - dark and warm. The other was almost grey, and Luke would bet unseeing. A curious injury, more curious still that it wasn’t covered by a patch or the eye itself replaced by a glass one that would be less conspicuous.

“Seems you like telling,” Luke pointed out, taking up his fork to dig into his meal.

“I suppose it’s more accurate to say I am used to telling,” Jean replied, taking a sip from his wine. Luke grinned.

“Are you used to being obeyed?” Luke asked, brow raised. Jean’s answering look was enough to bring warmth to his cheeks again. “Why did you invite me to dinner?”

“Because you asked me to,” Jean reminded him. “Why did you come?”

Luke laughed, shaking his head, shrugging. “Because you asked me to.”

“Then it seems we are well matched.”

Dinner was delicious, the conversation more so. Luke grew flushed from wine and anticipation, and he was nearly vibrating in his seat when Jean paid the check and leveled him with a knowing stare. 

“I’d like to see what I’ve spent my money on,” he murmured, gently taking Luke’s hand to help him from his seat. 

“You bought the lingerie, not me,” Luke reminded him. 

“And what would be the price of your company?”

Luke grinned. “I’m sure we can come to an agreement. 

Jean was staying in a penthouse suite, because tonight  _ was _ the most unbelievable of Luke’s life. Luke wasn’t given much time to admire it, though. Jean turned on him the moment they were in the door, Luke looked up, and the tension burst. 

Jean shoved him back against the wall, devouring him. Luke clawed at his shoulders, eager and greedy. He hadn’t been with a man for a long time, and he didn’t particularly care who pitched or caught as long as he was sweaty and satisfied after. But someone who could manhandle him, who could shove him hard enough against the wall to push his breath from him, someone who could pick him up and throw him… 

Luke groaned, pushing his palms against Jean’s chest to hold him at arm’s length for just a moment. He flicked a curl from his eyes and laughed when it immediately fell back.

“I’m gonna strip, and you’re going to watch,” Luke told him, seeing the way Jean’s brow lifted.

“Am I?”

“You want to see what you spent money on,” Luke said, tilting his head back and smiling. Jean considered him, eyes down to look at Luke’s pulse pound out a march against his throat, lower to the buttons he’d managed to work free, lower still to the very obvious bulge in Luke’s pants. Crooked teeth drew over his bottom lip and he tilted his head, acquiescing. He stepped back.

Luke shucked his jacket, letting it slide down the wall into a pile, and toed off his shoes. Belt next, then the buttons on his shirt still done up. He blushed at the way Jean’s eyes roamed over exposed skin. He liked being seen. He liked being adored and wanted. He cocked his hip and crossed his arms loosely over his middle.

“Where do you want me?”

Jean puffed a breath through his nose, amused. “The first time?”

Luke’s smile grew wider. “Yeah.”

“That depends on how adventurous you are.”

“I accepted lingerie and a dinner invitation from a total stranger.”

“By the window,” Jean told him, after a moment of thought. Luke bit his lip and moved there. Floor to ceiling windows, high enough above the city that the cabs looked like ladybugs, and it was still such an illicit thing, to be fucked against glass for all to see. As he went, he worked free his button and fly, and without turning around bent to lower his trousers down his legs. He stepped out of them and left them where they were before turning to lean his shoulder against the window and crooking his finger at Jean.

Jean looked hungry. More than that, he looked absolutely overwhelmed for the first time all night, no longer completely in control of the meeting or himself. He’d given Luke power, and he seemed entirely happy to have done so. 

He put his hands on Luke’s hips, hauling him close so he could feel the heat and hardness beneath Jean’s slacks. 

Luke groaned, raising his hands above his head, stretching and arching his back. He’d shaved for this, and when Jean’s hand slipped down between the panties and the stockings, he growled at the smooth skin he found there. 

“Worth the price?” Luke whispered. 

“Turn around and I’ll tell you.”

Luke shuddered and obeyed, pressing his chest to the cool glass. It was dizzying to look down at the city, as Jean worked his panties down in the back just enough to bare his ass. 

His cock remained trapped in the lace and Luke bit his lip as he rocked his forehead against the window, eyes hooded. Jean’s hands were wide and almost too-hot against his skin, and he arched his back to encourage him to explore further. Luke gasped when he felt lips dry and insistent against the line of his spine.

“You wear it beautifully,” Jean remarked, moving his hands down to Luke’s stockinged thighs and curling his fingers against the insides of them to get Luke to spread wider. He did, pushing up on his toes with a pleased groan as Jean stepped up close and rocked himself against Luke’s bared skin.

“How does it feel?”

“Unusual,” Luke admitted, turning his face against the glass to look at Jean over his shoulder. “Soft. Decadent.”

“Like you?”

“Oh, I’m far from soft,” Luke grinned, eyes fluttering closed as Jean shoved against him, teasing his clothed cock against him. Then one hand moved to cup Luke through the lace, a hum of approval at what he felt there. The other spread wide over Luke’s chest; possessive and perfect.

“But you are decadent.”

“I could be.”

“I’m going to fuck you,” Jean told him, leaning in to tug Luke’s earlobe. Luke shivered, arching his back deeper.

“Good. I want you to.”

For a moment neither moved, pressed close, reflections fuzzy in the double-glazed windows. Then Jean released Luke and set his hands to his hips again as he sunk to his knees behind him. Luke had a moment to take a breath before long fingers were spreading him and a hot tongue was pushing insistently against his entrance.

“Fuck, oh  _ fuck _ , yes.”

The hum of laughter made things worse, spreading shivers through him. Luke panted against the glass, staring down at cars and lights as Jean speared him open, spread him wide and left him dripping. 

Luke loved this. More than being fingered, more than a hot mouth on his cock, Luke loved being devoured, having someone’s tongue insistent against him. 

“ _ God.”  _ Luke’s orgasm took him by surprise, pulsing through him in waves. 

Jean pulled back only when Luke was trembling, his cock leaving a damp stain across the front of the panties. He flattened himself against Luke’s back, nipping at his ear. 

“I’m not giving you any more,” he warned, his cock grinding against Luke’s ass. “I want you tight and gasping for me.”

Luke groaned and reached back to clutch at Jeans hip, nodding frantically. 

Fantasies aside, Luke’s body could only take so much. Jean saturated himself with lubricant first, cold and slick as he began to push his way inside. 

It was tight. It hurt just enough that Luke crossed his arms over the glass and shoved his forehead against them. Jean’s fingers would leave bruises against Luke’s hips. He wanted them to. Jean’s teeth teasing his shoulder would leave marks. He wanted that too. When Jean was in to the hilt, balls against Luke’s, they both stopped to catch their breath. Luke shaking in pleasure, Jean using all his willpower not to tear the man beneath him apart.

Thin fingers slid through Luke’s curls and yanked his head back. 

“Watch,” he purred, catching Luke’s eyes in the blurry reflection. “I want you to watch yourself come apart on my cock.”

“ _ God _ where have you been all my life,” Luke laughed, breathless, before bracing his hands to the window. The hold eased just enough for Luke to turn his head and catch the wet kiss pushed on him. He moaned, smiling, until his grin was wide enough to make kissing near-impossible. “Go on then.” he challenged.

The man certainly kept his promises. Jean pulled no punches in fucking Luke into a whimpering mess some fifty floors above New York. He bit over Luke’s skin, kicked his feet apart to force him to bend deeper, spread wider. Luke, for his part, gave as good as he got. He shoved back into every thrust, let his voice carry shamelessly loud through the room, reached behind himself to grasp Jean’s impeccable hair in his fist to hold him close.

It was brutal, and it was quick. Soon Jean was panting against the curve of Luke’s neck, cock throbbing within him as he filled him up. Luke was breathless, nuzzling the window with a Cheshire grin before a laugh bubbled up from his throat.

“I haven’t been fucked like that since university, goddamn.”

“Give it an hour,” Jean growled into his throat, “and I’ll do it again.”

“Please,” Luke groaned. 

And he did. 

After an hour spent sprawled across the pristine (white) sheets in damp panties, an hour of champagne, of Jean running his palm up and down Luke’s smooth, stocking-covered thigh, Jean fucked him again. On his back, this time, legs over Jean’s shoulders, head turned to muffle his shouts in the pillow. 

Jean fucked him until he felt raw, until he was certain neither of them could possibly come again, until Luke was clawing at him, the two of them rough and wild as they rutted against each other. 

Luke could barely breathe when Jean finally let him go. He was trembling, stomach and thighs stained with their release. Two straps on the garter had snapped, and his stockings bore runs where Jean’s nails had caught when he bent him in half. When words finally returned, Luke pouted at him. 

“You ruined my new things.”

Jean looked him over, thumbing his spent cock through the panties before bringing the digit to his lips to suck clean.

“I suppose I could be persuaded to buy more.”

Luke snorted, shaking his head. “Could be? Damn, I’ve lost my touch.”

“Not necessarily,” Jean told him, leaning back on his elbows. “The night’s not over yet.”

“You’re a monster.”

“You’re not saying no.”

Luke had to admit that he absolutely was not.

Jean didn’t take him to breakfast, but he did wake Luke up with a delicious cup of black coffee courtesy of room service and kiss his cheek.

“Ah,” Luke sighed, stretching with a groan before sitting up. “You’re kicking me out.”

“I was about to take a shower, actually.”

“Are you extending an invitation?”

“I’m telling you you’re going to join me.” Jean corrected him. Luke grinned.

In the end, Luke left his card, and took Jean’s, and was promised that when next Jean was in New York he would look Luke up. Luke kissed the man and tugged his tie teasingly, and didn’t take his words to heart.

Nothing more than a passing fling. Nothing more than a very,  _ very _ satisfying fuck.

He found he wasn’t disappointed in the slightest. He even kept the torn garter belt as a souvenir.

* * *

“Mr. Brandon?” Luke looked up, his assistant was leaning through the doorway with a bag in her hand. An oddly familiar bag. “Someone left this at reception for you.”

“Thanks,” he gestured for her to leave it on his desk and didn’t reach for it until she closed the door. Then he nearly fell off his chair as he scrambled over his table getting to it. Same shop as six months ago, same weight as the garments he’d carried out of it then, different set of lingerie.

Teal, this time, or blue maybe. It didn’t matter. Just above the soft fabric was a note, hand-written, and Luke set his feet to the table, ankles crossed as he read.

_ Daniel. Eight o’clock. Wear your gift. _ _   
_ _ -J _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“It’s embarrassing how often I jerked off thinking about that night, actually.”_
> 
> _“How often?” Jean’s smile was entirely in his eyes, and Luke’s pulled wide across his lips._
> 
> _“Often,” he replied unhelpfully, and took a sip of his wine._

Luke had flings after Jean. Well. Fling. Singular. A particularly unsatisfying one. 

But the point was, he hadn’t been sitting around waiting with bated breath for Jean to call. He hadn’t expected him to be in touch at all. He’d kept his card, of course, but it was shoved into the back of a drawer somewhere. Luke had never planned to  _ use _ it. 

He just barely had time to get home and shave, to slip on the softest goddamn silk he’d ever worn in his life. This set was cut to accentuate his ass, not even attempting to cover the curve. Luke flushed when he realized these would probably be ruined too. The garter belt was more decorative than anything else, Jean would probably be able to rip it right off him. 

And there was another thought that had him desperately trying to squeeze into purposefully tight pants with half an erection. He was very nearly late, stumbling into the restaurant with seconds to spare. 

There was no reason for the smile that stole across Luke’s face when he saw Jean, and yet there it was. He had to remind himself to walk to the table, not run. There would be time for  _ enthusiasm _ later. 

“You’re back,” he said, as Jean pushed his chair in. “I wasn’t expecting… I mean, you said you traveled a lot. I wasn’t sure you’d come this way again.”

“You weren’t sure I’d remember you,” Jean countered, and Luke laughed, nodding.

“That too. I was a one-night-stand, not exactly memorable.”

“Hmm, I beg to differ.” Jean poured Luke’s wine before he poured his own, and Luke took up the glass with a snort.

“It’s embarrassing how often I jerked off thinking about that night, actually.”

“How often?” Jean’s smile was entirely in his eyes, and Luke’s pulled wide across his lips.

“Often,” he replied unhelpfully, and took a sip of his wine.

Later, laying sprawled and freshly fucked out across the bed (with white sheets), Luke reached out to run his fingers through the thick swath of hair on Jean’s chest.

“So what do you do, exactly?” he asked, humming when Jean’s hand landed in his hair in turn to stroke against his scalp. “Besides woo hapless men outside lingerie shops then fuck the life out of them.”

“I make the lives of very rich men simpler,” Jean replied at length. “I’m a glorified bookkeeper.”

Luke snorted. “Stop it.”

“Banker, banker is another title I could use.”

“I cut my teeth in finance,” Luke grinned. “Small world.”

“Cut-throat world,” Jean agreed, tugging Luke’s hair gently. “It explains your eagerness.”

“For getting fucked?” Luke’s nose wrinkled as he smiled. “Yeah, suppose it does.”

“And now?”

“Oh, I’m still very eager to get fucked,” Luke confirmed. “But I have my own company now. In a far crueller industry.”

“Law?”

“Public relations.”

Jean snorted. “PR is the sort of thing I pay other people to handle.”

“You and everyone else,” Luke said with a roll of his eyes. “ _ Somebody _ has to be good with people.”

“I’m excellent with people,” Jean countered, his fingers trailing lightly down the line of Luke’s throat. “But I don’t have time to fix all the little things.”

“My entire life is dealing with the little things,” Luke said with a sigh. Then, with a smile far too smug for his poor sense of humor, he added, “But I’m excellent with big things, too.”

“I’m well aware,” Jean said, one eyebrow raised. “Though I’m always up for a demonstration.”

Luke considered it, yawning. “In a moment,” he decided. “What kind of banker travels like you do?”

“The kind who owns the bank.”

“Hmm no wonder you’re used to being obeyed,” Luke replied, amused. He lay where he was a moment more before pushing himself up on all fours and stretching his back with a very pleased groan. He crawled until he was holding himself up over Jean, and then very deliberately folded himself over him until he could cross his arms over Jean’s collarbones and press his body entirely against him.

“Are you any good at  _ taking _ orders, I wonder?”

“From whom?” Jean asked, amused, dropping his arms heavily over Luke where he lay, toying with the waistband of his panties. 

“Very rich men.”

Jean shook his head, eyes narrowed in pleasure as Luke’s smile pulled wider.

“What about lowly PR managers?”

“It would hardly be good for my image if I didn’t pay them heed.”

“Hardly.” Luke arched up to press a lingering kiss beneath Jean’s jaw before sitting up, straddling the man’s middle. “What if I told you you can’t touch me until I say?”

Jean considered, hands still playing with the thin fabric that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. “I could tell you to go fuck yourself.”

“Oh, I plan to,” Luke nodded, rolling his hips down deliberately. “And have a great time. But you can’t touch. Will you obey?”

“If I’m good, do I get a treat?” Jean quipped. 

Feeling bold, Luke leaned down, letting their lips brush lightly. “If you’re good,” he whispered, “you get to buy me another pair of panties to ruin.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Jean told him, lifting his hands from Luke’s hips and crossing them pointedly above his head. 

Luke grinned. He leaned back in Jean’s lap, letting the man get a good look at the length of his body. They’d ruined this set, too, more purposefully this time. The lace lining of the garter belt was in tatters. None of that seemed to matter to Jean, who looked at Luke like he was a god sent to torment him. 

They’d been rough again today, so Luke was gentle with himself now. Soft caresses over his chest, careful flicks of his nipples to get him squirming. He cupped himself lightly through the panties, then tugged them aside just enough to feel for where he was still slick and open. He was going to ride this man tonight, just as soon as he had him too riled up to think. 

Jean let his eyes hood, half-open in his pleasure as he watched Luke touch himself. The man was beautifully shameless - had been since the first time Jean had taken him to dinner. He’d worried that perhaps his gift would be unwelcome, that one night was all they were going to get, that Luke perhaps wouldn’t even remember him. He’d surprised himself the day he’d offered to buy Luke the lingerie, was pleasantly surprised later when the night had gone so well.

And now, as Luke bit his lip and moaned quietly, fingers teasing between his legs as he rubbed very deliberately against Jean’s hardening cock, he was very glad he’d worried for nought.

Jean arched his back, met Luke’s undulations with one of his own and grinned when the man laughed.

“That’s cheating.”

“I’m not touching you.”

Luke leveled him with a glare that would have been much more effective were he not smiling, and brought a hand up to tug his hair as his other traced the lace patterns against his cock with tickling fingers.

“You know I couldn’t sit properly for two days after last time?” Luke told him, grinning when he felt Jean’s cock twitch at the words. “Thought of you every time I winced bending over to get something…”

“You look very good bent over,” Jean agreed, and Luke hummed, pleased, as he squeezed his cock through the lace.

“I expect to be as thoroughly ruined this time.” A gasp, a little moan. Luke tilted his head back, Adam’s apple bobbing. “If I can get out of bed tomorrow, I’ll be disappointed.”

“You’re making it very difficult to be obedient,” Jean growled. His fingers twitched against the bedding. Too used to being obeyed, too used to people scurrying before him. By the end of this, he’d be ruined too. 

Luke pushed himself up onto his knees, grinning broadly as he shimmied out of the panties. It required some maneuvering and fidgeting with the straps that held his stockings up, but soon the stockings and the belt were all he wore, the rest of him on display. His cock was fully hard, straining towards the ceiling. Jean looked ready to snap. 

“Stay still,” Luke reminded him, stroking Jean a few times to make sure he was exactly how Luke wanted him. Slowly, Luke lowered himself onto Jean’s cock, groaning as he settled, full and sore in the best ways. 

“Fuck,” Jean growled, teeth digging into his lower lip. Luke smiled teasingly. 

“If you’re good. When I’m done with you.”

Luke took his time ‘being done with him’, setting a leisurely pace that drove both of them to profanity very quickly. There was a burn in Luke’s thighs that he relished; it had been a long time since he’d fucked himself against such a willing partner, and he couldn’t get enough of the way Jean’s expressions slipped from overwhelmed pleasure to teeth-baring frustration.

Eventually Luke leaned forward, palms on the planes of Jean’s chest, fingers digging into the skin enough to redden it as he fucked himself faster, lips close enough to Jean’s that he could feel his panted breaths at his cheek.

“God you feel so fucking good,”

“You’re a goddamn tease.”

“Yeah,” Luke laughed, squeezing around Jean until the other arched up, cursing, but still not touching. It was remarkable, the willpower of someone who wanted to get laid again. But that wasn’t exactly true, Luke imagined, not entirely. Sure, it wasn’t as though they were exclusive, but this was more than just another tumble in the sheets for either of them.

“You wanna touch me?” Luke teased, biting his lip and leaning back when Jean damn near lunged at him. “Ask nice.”

“Let me fucking touch you.”

Luke slapped him playfully, sitting back further. “I said  _ nice _ .”

Jean surged up, keeping his arms behind him for balance, pressing chest to chest with Luke as the other continued to bounce up and down on his cock, himself near-bursting with impatience, but curious, so curious.

“Let me touch you,” Jean whispered, “you beautiful, intolerable man.”

“Touch me,” Luke granted, managing perhaps half a squeak before he was upended onto the bed and Jean’s lips were on his. His hands were everywhere, tugging at Luke’s nipples, grazing nails down his sides, squeezing bruises into his ass as Jean lifted his hips just a little and drove into him.

He fucked like a vicious thing, pent up frustration and eagerness. His mouth drew bruises to Luke’s skin, his hands made Luke ache. 

At some point, Luke’s voice broke and cracked and pitched over into a cry. He had not given up his power so much as shared it. He and Jean pushed and pulled, pleasure shared between them surging hot and bright until it exploded, leaving them both gasping. 

Jean pinned him when they were finished, holding Luke beneath him as if to prove he could, grasping for control that Luke allowed, if only because Jean felt so damn good against him. 

“You were good,” Luke panted. “I want my next set to be white.”

Jean made an aborted sound, half a groan, and surged up to kiss him again.

* * *

The next set was white, and Jean didn’t wait six months this time. 

The lingerie showed up  _ two weeks _ after their last liaison, and it came with flowers that Luke was absolutely baffled by. 

“Oooh is this the guy?” Rebecca asked, stopping on her way tottering past his office when she saw the bouquet. Luke frowned.

“What guy?”

“ _ The _ guy. Best-sex-of-my-life guy. Stranger-bought-me-lingerie guy.”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Luke replied, laughing when Becky squealed and clapped her hands in delight. She really was so childish in her enthusiasm, and yet it was always so genuine, so hard to resist.

“Oh my God, what if he takes you traveling with him?” she offered next, leaning in Luke’s doorway having entirely forgotten what it was she was on her way to do in the first place. Probably something  _ important _ . “What if he takes you to Paris or something?”

“Paris?” Luke snorted. “Why the fuck would he take me to Paris?”

“Because that would be so romantic,” Rebecca pointed out, giving Luke an exaggerated wink before leaving him to his own overthinking. The flowers were lovely. The lingerie was gorgeous. The note said Jean missed him.

Luke didn’t hesitate in leaving a little early to get ready for dinner.

After that, the gifts were a very regular occurrence. Sometimes weekly, sometimes a few times a week. Sometimes just panties, precluding the arrival of a garter and stockings in the days following. Sometimes they met at Daniel, sometimes just at the hotel; Jean always in the penthouse, Luke always the first to grab his tie and kiss him breathless when he opened the door.

It was certainly not a one night stand anymore. They rarely stood, for one thing. Luke found himself pleasantly sore at work, wriggling in his seat. The panties they managed not to ruin he’d occasionally wear to work. No one needed to know, thank you very much, but if he were to get a surprise visitor, or an unexpected invitation to lunch instead of dinner…

Luke believed in being prepared.

“Not next weekend,” he warned Jean one night, the two of them intertwined thoroughly. Bare and sticky, and yet neither of them wanted to pull away. “I have a conference.” 

Jean frowned. The weekends were the best time for them to get together, and he’d been taking up more and more of Luke’s time as the months went on. “If not next weekend, then it will be several weeks before I can see you again.”

Luke felt warmth blossoming in his chest. He was just as upset as Jean to miss out on time together, and it meant… something. It shouldn’t have meant  _ anything,  _ but curled up like this, Luke felt a pleasant sort of longing. 

“Next time,” he offered. “I’ll let you keep me for the entire weekend. Just you, me, and the hotel room.”

“Or the city,” Jean offered. “Do you know, I’ve never seen any of the sights? I came, I did work, I left.”

“You came, you saw, you conquered,” Luke mused back, grinning when Jean muttered something in Albanian. He’d noticed him do it more and more, when he was sleepy, when he and Luke were just dozing together. Jean would say soft things against him, words Luke didn’t know but could understand the feeling of.

“Next time,” he agreed after a while. “You, me, all weekend. New York City during the day, and back to mine at night.”

Jean raised an eyebrow, gazing down at Luke as the younger man nuzzled his chest. He hummed, and Luke grinned.

“I’ll be sure to get white sheets.”

Jean tugged his hair, just enough for Luke’s eyes to flutter closed, and sighed. “I’ll hold you to it.”

* * *

The conference was awful.

These conferences were always awful, and for some reason they were always held in Florida in the middle of summer. He supposed it was a clever strategy: hold the most boring conference on earth in a state that gets painfully hot in summer, and entice all the attendees with the air conditioning the hotel meeting rooms offered.

No one would escape. No one would want to.

Dastardly.

Luke stood off to the side of the main hall, a glass of fairly nice white wine in his hand as he regarded the swarm of people trapped here with him. The usual suspects, of course, people he had to schmooze with because his company was still fledgeling compared to most. There were just two speakers scheduled for the afternoon and later that evening a fancy dinner that Luke would rather have faced the Florida heat for than attend.

At least he had the wine. 

Public drunkenness was, of course, terrible for public relations, but Luke knew his limits. He was just working up a nice, lingering buzz when someone invaded his little corner of the room. Determined to use the conference for its intended purpose, Luke turned with his best I-hate-you-but-I’m-networking smile. 

“You look absolutely miserable.”

Luke’s smile faltered on his face, and then twitched into something more ‘ecstatically confused.’ “What are you  _ doing _ ?”

Jean smiled softly, exchanging Luke’s half-empty wine glass for his own full one. “I had business.”

“You did not. In  _ Florida?”  _ Luke raised an eyebrow. Though Jean was still secretive about his work, Luke had developed a decent understanding about the sort of places his clientele called him to. None of them were  _ Disney World.  _

“On the east coast,” Jean countered, eyes narrowing when Luke snorted and shook his head. He had a lovely blush already warming the apples of his cheeks which the wine added to fetchingly. Jean moved to lean against the wall Luke had taken up semi-permanent residence at and hummed.

“Shouldn’t you be networking?”

“Shouldn’t you?” Luke shot back, tilting his head. “Since you’re on the ‘east coast’ for business? I can’t believe you came in here voluntarily. It will be a battle royale soon, for who can get the most people’s attention while still somewhat sober.”

“I am, in fact, conversing with just the man I came here to see.”

“You’re a right shit, you know that,” Luke told him fondly, shifting just enough to press his shoulder to Jean’s, crossing his feet at the ankle. “You caught me completely unprepared. I’m not even dressed well.”

“I think you’ve looked worse.”

“Oh, ta,” Luke laughed, ducking his head before taking another sip of wine. He was, actually, wearing some very lovely panties that Jean had bought him not three weeks before. But without a garter belt and stockings he felt - amusingly - underdressed.

“You know it hardly matters to me what you’re wearing.”

“Charmer.”

“That said,” Jean continued, turning to bear his weight against the wall on his shoulder, facing Luke. “I do have a gift for you.”

Luke hid a pleased flush in his glass. “You always have a gift for me,” he said, aiming for cavalier. 

Judging by Jean’s smirk, he’d missed it by several hundred miles. Cavalier was back in New York. Luke was here, with Jean, a man who had followed him to  _ Florida _ just so they wouldn’t miss a weekend together. 

“One day, I’ll figure out what else you like besides dressing up so prettily for me,” Jean murmured. He reached out, his fingers tracing lightly over Luke’s wrist, his pulse. “You think I buy you so many gifts  _ now _ ?”

“I’ve never asked you to spoil me.”

“And yet I can’t resist the urge.”

Luke looked at him helplessly, and took another large swallow of wine. “What are we doing, Jean?”

Jean’s serious gaze had him pinned, a butterfly on a board. 

“I think,” Jean said, wrapping an arm around Luke’s waist, “we’re going upstairs to my room. Where I will shower you with gifts you pretend you aren’t impressed by. We’ll have a struggle where you will invariably come out on top, somehow, even if you lose. You always get what you want.”

“You’re always so happy to give it,” Luke murmured. 

“I am. So I will. And then we’ll lay there, together, talking about nothing and making plans for next time, and I’ll tell you that I bought an apartment in New York City, and you will look at me… just like that.”

Luke looked like someone had thrown a glass of water at his face for no reason whatsoever. It took him several moments to be able to gather himself enough to even make a sound, let alone words.

“You bought a place?”

“I thought it would be a better investment than solely funding the Four Seasons.”

“You’re mad.”

Jean hummed, flicking his eyes away for just a moment to scan the rest of the congregation of networking professionals. “I could offer a witty rejoinder or agreement here,”

“I just want you to know,” Luke murmured, leaning more heavily into the arm around him. “That I am perhaps thirty seconds away from climbing you like a goddamn tree in front of all these people.”

“Shameless.”

“Wouldn’t you be if I’d just told you that?”

Jean’s smile revealed his teeth for a brief moment and Luke  _ moaned _ into his wine glass as he emptied it. “Twenty seconds.”

“Perhaps we should find a suitable corridor.”

“Start looking. Ten.”

Jean’s teeth revealed themselves in a grin this time, and he tugged Luke closer as he moved them away from the wall. There were tables scattered about with more glasses and nibbles, and Luke set his empty glass to the corner of one as they passed it, laughing when Jean did the same.

He counted under his breath, more for amusement than anything else; as much as he was desperate to, he wouldn’t  _ actually _ grope his boyfriend in the middle of a public relations conference.

“Five,” he whispered, giddy, as Jean picked up their pace and moved them towards the elevators. “Four,” a set of doors slid open and Luke genuinely giggled at the coincidence. “Three-two-one  _ fuck _ ,”

Jean had him up against the mirrored wall the instant they were inside, the doors hadn’t even closed yet, and Luke was clinging to his suit and kissing back like his life depended on it.

Luke was drunk, and not from the wine. He was drunk on adrenaline, excitement, pure goddamn  _ happiness _ . He had no clue how he’d ended up here, but he clung to Jean with everything he had. 

Jean slid his hands down, over Luke’s backside, to tug sharply at his thighs. With a startled laugh, Luke found himself picked up off the ground, held up against the mirror, Jean’s body keeping him pinned. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Luke groaned, tilting his head back for Jean to suck bruises into his neck. 

“Yes, this was entirely my doing,” Jean murmured, grazing his teeth over the sensitive tendon. 

“You started it, at least. God, Jean, do that again.”

Jean obliged, nipping sharply at the fluttering pulse under his teeth. Luke moaned. 

“I’ll just… get the next one…” said the poor man standing in the open elevator doors.

“That would be best,” Jean replied, not even turning to look when he dropped his hand to the button to close the doors between them. Luke didn’t seem to have noticed. No matter.

“I do wonder,” he purred, rutting up against Luke where he held him up. “What you wear when I haven’t spoiled you with new things.”

“Old things,” Luke grinned. “That survived our more adventurous evenings.” Jean hummed, clearly pleased, and Luke wrapped his legs around him tighter. “You’ve ruined me for underwear.”

“I hope for more than that.”

“Certainly,” Luke said, knocking his head back against the mirror as Jean started working open his shirt. When would they get to their damn  _ floor _ already? Jean and his obsession with penthouse suites. “For a damn good fuck too.”

The elevator finally stopped. The doors finally opened. And Luke squirmed free only to yank Jean close against him again. He shoved a foot out to keep the elevator doors from closing and pulled back when Jean tried to kiss him.

“You actually bought a place?”

“I did.”

“Because of me?”

“Mostly because of you.”

“Because of me.”

“Because of you.”

“Good,” Luke grinned. “You can take me to bed and spoil me now.”

Jean always booked beautiful rooms. Luke couldn’t remember a damn thing about them. This one would be no exception. They were clinging to each other, tripping over themselves to get to the bed. 

“Wait,” Luke gasped when Jean tumbled him into the sheets, “I didn’t get my present.”

“Next round,” Jean promised, nipping is way down Luke’s chest with each button he undid. 

“No,” Luke said, pushing him back up. He affected a pout, playful rather than serious. “I was promised a present. No present, no sex.”

Jean looked at him with an aching fondness in his eyes. “Spoiled thing,” he accused. 

“You made me this way,” Luke said, “you wanted it.”

“I did.” 

The present was actually  _ presents _ , plural. First the expected: lace garments so flimsy that Jean’s intention to literally rip them off him was clear. The second, however, was nothing Jean had ever gotten him before. 

Just a watch. Nothing flashy, nothing gaudy. Nothing as dressed up as the panties and stockings Luke had gotten used to. Definitely well made and expensive, but subtle. Luke stared at it, his words stuck in his throat. 

Jean kissed his cheek and Luke laughed, a breathy helpless thing, before meeting Jean’s eyes and shaking his head. “You’re terrible.”

“Do you like it?”

“I do like it.”

“Good.” Jean kissed his lips this time, chastely. “Go put your new gifts on for me, spoiled boy, then come back.”

Luke scrambled up out of bed, taking the watch in one hand, the lingerie in his other, and set both to the bathroom sink. He considered kicking shut the door before thinking better of it and turning back to Jean. he stripped off his pants first, this time, and cocked his hip so Jean could see the panties he’d worn beneath. The low growl that elicited was enough to make Luke feel giddy all over again.

Only then did he close the door.

The set this time was a deep royal purple and Luke made a helpless sound just looking at it. He  _ was _ spoiled, and he loved it. He’d never wanted for much growing up, and he’d purposefully rejected the more overt suggestions of his well-to-do-ness as an adult, but there was something so wonderfully freeing about being spoiled by someone for whom money wasn’t an issue.

He dressed quickly, ran cool water over his hand before ruffling his hair, and gave himself a smile in the mirror before leaving the bathroom.

He stalked to the bed and climbed onto it in a fluid motion, coming to rest on all fours over Jean where he half sat, half lay against the headboard. Luke was already painfully hard, the lace pressing up against the sensitive head of his cock, and when he leaned in to catch Jean’s hand to guide it between his legs he sighed out in pleasure.

“Do you like it?” Luke asked him. Jean licked his lips.

“I do.”

“Good. Because I expect there to be nothing left of it when you’re through with me.”

Jean rolled them, teeth and tongue marking lines down Luke’s shoulder. He was worshipful, slipping down to nuzzle at his belly. 

“Make me feel good,” Luke whispered, his hands in Jean’s hair, guiding him. 

Jean’s mouth was hot through the lace, sucking at the head of his cock until Luke shuddered and rolled his hips towards him. He nosed his way down, mouthing over his balls, a hot lick at his entrance through the fabric. When he looked up, his eyes were wild, dark with arousal. He dug his teeth into the lace at Luke’s hip and tugged. 

It began to rip almost immediately. Luke hauled Jean up, laughing. “I haven’t even been wearing it for five minutes!”

“Yet I still want it off you,” Jean growled. 

“Be good,” Luke reminded him teasingly, “or I won’t let you buy more.”

Jean considered him, eyes narrowing just slightly, before he grasped Luke’s hips again and flipped him on the bed, kissing down from between his shoulders to his tailbone as Luke laughed in surprise.

“You make a lot of demands,” Jean pointed out, and Luke grinned, spreading his legs invitingly and arching his back.

“I do,” he agreed. “I’m immeasurably greedy.”

“I suppose we’re well-matched then,” Jean nipped at Luke’s ass through his panties and guided him back further, until Luke was on his knees, chest to the bed, and arms stretched languidly in front of him. “I seem to be addicted to you.”

Before Luke could say anything at all, the lace was tugged aside and a hot tongue was pressing insistently between his cheeks. Jean had very quickly figured out that the only way to stop Luke talking back was to make him incoherent, and the one thing that brought him shaking to his knees was being rimmed to within an inch of his life.

He held Luke open, as the other squirmed and moaned into the sheets, at once cursing and praising Jean as he teased and tormented him. Luke’s cock leaked clear and slick against the lace still covering it and he whimpered, sliding a hand down to cup himself.

“Be good,” Jean purred against him, reaching down to very deliberately push Luke’s hand away. “And I might make you come more than once tonight.”

Luke laughed breathlessly, shoving his face against a pillow. He couldn’t even be angry at Jean for turning the tables, not when it felt so good. 

“Jean,” he moaned, grinding down into the bed, “fuck,  _ Jean…” _

Heat built blinding inside of him. Jean held him open, letting him seek his pleasure until it overwhelmed him. He reached back, fingers clutching at Jean’s hair, desperate and hungry. 

His orgasm took him by surprise, his body shaking as he tipped over the edge. 

He’d barely caught his breath before Jean was on him, pressing him into the sheets, cock catching against his rim and pushing forward. 

“Fuck…” Luke laughed, reaching back for Jean again and finding his hands pinned instead by Jean’s own, fingers slipping together, holding tight. He felt entirely overcome by him, Jean in him, on him, around him. Always on his mind, always in Luke’s dreams… he was handsome and dangerous and had a cunning sense of humor and Luke really didn’t want this to be over. Not ever.

He always got sentimental when he was post-coital.

Luke tried to arch back, meeting Jean’s thrusts with a gasp and laughter, tilting his chin up obediently when Jean pressed kisses to it, to his jaw, sucked bruises that Luke would not be able to hide at the dinner later, at the office after that.

Good.

_ Good. _ Let people see. Let people know.

“Yes, claim me, fuck,” Luke groaned, pressing his forehead to the bed when Jean rested his own between his shoulders, rhythm breaking, hips pushing deeper, harder, faster, until he stilled and spilled inside him and collapsed breathless on top of Luke’s shaking form.

As they lay together, panting, sweaty, Jean freed one hand to gently tuck his fingers beneath Luke’s chin, turning his face to him.

“I’ve had you a good long while, I think,” he told him softly. “As you’ve had me.”

Luke hummed, smile pulling lazy as he nodded. He ducked his head to kiss the fingers that stroked his face. “‘Bout time we made it public then.”

Jean snorted against him, mouthing at the nape of Luke’s neck as Luke caught a finger between his lips and sucked it obscenely.

“Did you want fireworks and fanfare?” He asked.

“No,” Luke sighed, giving Jean a very pleased narrow-eyed look. “A few dozen hickies should do it. For a start. You’ve already given me a watch.”

Jean laughed, low and pleased, and held himself up just enough for Luke to wriggle about beneath him and lay on his back, legs already spread to welcome Jean against him again. Jean set his elbows just above Luke’s shoulders and kissed him.

“I suppose I can do that.”

“If you’re good, I might keep you.”

Jean nuzzled him, possessive and gentle, and kissed the tip of Luke’s nose. “Let’s see if we can do better than ‘might’.”

**Author's Note:**

> **_Agastopia_ ** _: (n) appreciation of someone's body_
> 
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